Gonna Cut You Down
by bushlaboo
Summary: Following the events of “All Hell Breaks Loose Part II” – Sam and Dean head back to Bobby’s to regroup. [Not the best summary, but it works.]
1. Bad Company

365 days, well technically, 363 days now. That's how long he had to live. After getting over the initial "what the fuck have I done?" aspect of the situation, there was a certain freedom Dean felt knowing exactly when he'd be checking out. That was when he wasn't brooding on the fact that he'd be spending eternity in hell.

As the Impala purred down the highway Dean cast a quick glance at his brother. Nazareth blared around them as Sam poured through their father's journal looking for any mention of making deals with a demon, and more importantly how to break them. He highly doubted that Sam would find his salvation in the journal. Aside from blackmailing the demon who'd been after Evan Hudson and his father climbing his way out of hell, he had never heard of anyone getting out of a deal.

His eyes drifted back to the long, empty road before them. Dean had a feeling that blackmail wouldn't work with the demon. Not that he knew how to find her – _it_. Tracking the Yellow-Eyed Bastard who started this all in the first place had been downright impossible. He had no idea how his father had pieced the clues together and managed to follow the demonic bread crumbs. He and Sammy certainly hadn't managed it without help and now Ash was gone.

A ball of fury curled in his stomach. Ash was dead because he'd been trying to help them. Dean knew it was his choice. Ash had hung around the Roadhouse long enough to know that there were consequences to facing the darkness in the world, but the loss of the oddball mullet-head stung.

Good people fell in this line of work. He knew that … hell he experienced first hand; first with father and then with Sam. Dean clutched the wheel tighter as coldness settled over him at the memory of holding a dying Sam in his arms. The moment had literally been the worst of his life.

Everyone he ever loved had been taken from him, and he failed the person most important to him – Sam. His baby brother had always been his responsibility. Protecting him, keeping him safe was the driving purpose of his life. Beyond the need to please his father and to avenge his mother, being there for Sam was his priority.

Failing him was never an option. Having 363 days with Sam was better then a lifetime of guilt without him. Going to hell was a fair price to pay so that his brother could live. In a way Sam understood what he'd done, and that knowledge helped Dean, even though he knew his brother could never accept it.

The station started to fade out as Nazareth transition into Skynryd. Sam flicked the radio off. "Hey," Dean complained. "I'm driving," he said his tone warning. There were rules when it came to traveling and Sam knew to respect them.

"I think I found something," he said. They locked gazes for a long, tense moment.

"Don't keep me in suspense Sammy," Dean remarked with a grin, trying to come off as uninterested. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam make his patented "this is important, don't act like it's not" face.

Fingering a page in the journal he said, "Dad crossed out the initials E. S. and a set of coordinates."

"And that's useful?" Dean questioned.

"E. S. is a tracker Dean," Sam huffed. It was clear to Dean that he didn't appreciate the fact that he was squashing his first bit of hope.

"Whatever dude. If Dad crossed out the name it probably means that he moved on." He left out the other option, which was or dead. Dean had a feeling that mentioning that would make Sam pissy and he was getting enough attitude at the moment.

"We're checking it out," Sam informed him with an authoritative snap as he shut the journal.

"And how do you expect to find this E. S.?" Dean queried. "The white pages?"

"If we have to, yeah. I'll go door-to-door if necessary."

"No."

"What do you mean no?" Sam exclaimed, annoyance seeping into his voice. "This person could help us."

"We're following the plan and meeting up with Bobby and Ellen. They might be able to tell us who E. S. is anyhow, and if they can't, then _maybe_ we'll check it out."

"Dean," his brother protested.

"Doorway to hell opening up. Remember that?" he asked his brother harshly. "It's a free-for-all right now, Sam, and like it or not it's our mess to clean up."

"I know that." Sam's voice was as tight as the tension in the car between them.

"One thing at a time then," Dean said trying to smooth things over. Instead of replying Sam flicked the radio back on and proceeded to ignore him.

---

The rundown house in the center of the junkyard didn't look like much, but it was the closet thing they had to safety. Bobby's place had been their refuge after their father died and being able to come back to it, hell come back to anything, felt good to Sam. It wasn't exactly home, but it was the closest he'd come to it since losing Jess.

"Do you see his truck?" he asked Dean as they drove through the collection of junk.

"No," his brother replied as he braked behind a pile of stacked scrap metal that was a good twenty yards from the house. Dean cut the motor and nodded towards the pristine '56 Buick parked by the side of the house. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the messy, dusty lot. "Looks like company."

"Think it's friendly?"

"Dunno," Dean answered as he pulled out his cell. Bobby was on speed dial and it only took him a single ring to answer. "We're here," Sam heard him say. "Uh-huh. Yeah. You sure?"

The one sided conversation aggravated Sam. "Well?" he asked when Dean ended the call.

"Friendly, apparently," he said, reaching into the backseat. Sam knew what he was after. One of the small knives Dean liked to hide in his boot; he always kept one tucked underneath his seat for quick access.

"You're suiting up?"

Dean flashed him a grin, the charming one that seemed to make otherwise intelligent women melt. "Never can be too careful."

Considering their work, Sam couldn't fault Dean's logic, but he also trusted Bobby. Instinct, however, prevailed and he reached for a similar knife under his seat. He was tucking it into his boot when Dean got out of the car. Looking up he saw his brother wave to Bobby and Ellen. Pulling his pant down over his weapon Sam opened the car door and stepped out.

---

He took a minute to inspect the dark blue automobile. After eight years it was still in prime condition. That wasn't the surprise that floored Bobby. No, the fact that car was there at all did.

"You all right?" Ellen asked.

Bobby rapped on the hood, "Yeah," he sighed before the four of them headed into the house. The sight and smell that greeted them had Dean's mouth hanging open after he breathed out, "What the hell." The once heavily cluttered and dusty house was organized and spotless, and the aroma of fresh baked cookies hung in the air. Drifting in from the dinning room he could hear the familiar off-key voice singing along with Janis Joplin.

Without saying anything he continued on into the other room. She was standing on one of his ancient chairs, stretched out on her tip-toes as she arranged his books in the built-in cabinets. Dressed in yellow tank-top and loose fitting cargo pants, her hair was tied up in a knot on her head, and he could see the perspiration beaded on her neck. "Took you long enough," she said not bothering to turn around.

Her voice was different, more mature. Bobby wasn't certain why he expected it to be the same, but the image he had of her was frozen in time.

"I can't say that you were expected, sweetheart," Dean mouthed off.

She turned then, an amused smile quirking her lips, which didn't falter when she took in their ragged appearance. "Interesting company you're keeping these days, Bobby."

Bobby not Dad. Considering he never cared what she called when she was child, just that she did what she was told, it unsettled him to hear her call him by his given name. "I thought you were never coming back here."

"Hadn't planned on it," she said hopping down off the chair, "but it's not everyday that a door to hell is opened."

"How'd you know about that?" Ellen asked suspiciously.

"She has her ways," he answered for her. He felt the weight of his companions' gazes on him, but explaining about his daughter wasn't something Bobby wanted to do at the moment.

"Ways?" Sam questioned.

"Look," she started to say, but stopped as her entire form went tense. "You were followed."

"What?"

"No way."

Ignoring their skepticism she hurried across the room to them. "I have salt lines down in the kitchen," she said trying to usher them in that direction.

"We weren't followed," Dean argued.

His daughter shot him a glance. "Kitchen now," he ordered. Dean continued to protest so Bobby pushed him towards the small room, Sam and Ellen behind them.

"Bobby would you explain what's going on?" Ellen asked as Sam stepped over the line of salt, before crying out "Hey," as she was nudged over herself.

There was a loud whoosh and then a sickening crack as his girl was thrown against the far wall. Some of the books she'd so neatly been arranging thudded to the floor. "Son of bitch," Dean cursed and started to charge towards the dining room.

Bobby stepped in front of him and held out his hand, blocking Dean. "Don't." The boy looked like he was about to argue with him when their unwelcome guest spoke up.

"Goody, the gang is all here."

---

From behind her new façade Meg surveyed her prey. Bobby and Ellen were of little importance to her, and while she had her own plans for Sam, her reason for being there was Dean. He executed her father and she was there to see that he paid; line of salt or not, he'd be dead before she left. "Guess who yet?"

"Farmer Ted?" Dean offered with his usual nonchalance.

"You really don't want to piss me off," she warned, her eyes flashing back.

"No, I really think I do."

"Dean," Sam hissed nodding towards the girl not within the salt lines. This drew Meg's attention back to the girl, who moaned as her eyes fluttered open. "Howdy, Evie."

Her dark eyes swam with pain and confusion. "I know you?"

"No, we never had the pleasure, but my Father was quite fond of you."

"Meg," Sam whispered in disbelief. Took him long enough to piece it together, she thought.

"As in the demon that possessed you?" Ellen asked for clarification. "The one who worked for the Yellowed-Eyed Demon."

"Yes," Sam answered, clearly angered by her presence.

"Wait. What does the Demon have to do with Angie?" Dean inquired.

"_Evie_," Bobby corrected.

"This isn't a game of twenty …" Meg trailed off. "They have no idea who she is do they?" She laughed as Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "All those years and Daddy never told why he and Bobby had a falling out?"

"We're not interested in any lies you have to spew," Sam informed her.

"We don't always lie," she replied back with wicked grin.

"Would you mind skipping the melodrama and getting on with your revenge attempt?" Evie piped up from behind her.

"Why, when I can have both?"

---

Confusion. Mistrust. Doubt. Wrath. _Pain_.

Pain was definitely the strongest. It radiated through her when she tried to move. Not that she got anywhere. Pinned by a demon. God, she hated that feeling. It was bad enough that she willingly roped herself back into this mess, now she was going to have to relive how she managed to escape it in the first place. Unless …

"Introductions first. Sam, Dean meet Evelyn Singer, Bobby's not so precious little girl. Evie, Sam and Dean _Winchester_. But I'm sure you knew that already."

Actually she hadn't. She figured, but it wasn't like she was a physic. At least not in way any physic she'd met had been – she was more empathic. "Sure, fine. Why not," Evie replied. "I'd wave but my appendages aren't exactly my own at the moment."

"We're not doing this," Bobby stated harshly.

"Oh, but I think we are," Meg, as Sam had named her, shot back. "Besides, I think once Dean knows how Evie helped Daddy dearest, he'll be more than happy to step over that line of salt so that I can tear him into pieces."

"You can spin any story you like but that's not going to happen," Sam promised.

"Aw, you think you can save him," Meg laughed.

"I _will_ save him."

Keep auguring, Evie thought. Keep her distracted.

"Poor delusional Sam. Dean is as good as gone. Why put off the –" Meg stopped in mid-sentence and sucked in a painful breath. "You're … gonna … regret … that," she ground before Evie felt herself go flying. She managed to keep up her hushed words even as she crashed against the grandfather clock. The glass shattered and fell around her, but Evie could see the toll the exorcism was taking on the demon.

---

"No one is crossing that line," Ellen said as her companions started towards the doorway. "She a big girl, she can handle it." To cement her point Meg writhed in pain.

"She can't do this alone," Bobby insisted. He had that look in his eyes. It was a familiar look for Ellen, or any parent really who saw their child in harm's way.

The Latin continued as another crash sounded. Ellen flinched, but continued to argue with the men who were itching to cross the line of salt and enter the fray. Behind her in the dining room a battle of wills was taking place and Ellen would lay odds on a Singer any day.

---

Hard, unforgiving demonic eyes met his. "This isn't over," Meg vowed before pulling a vanishing act. Dean started to push past Ellen when the girl ordered him not to. He had every intention of ignoring it, but Sam grabbed his shoulder. Dean flashed his brother an irritated look, but Sam returned his display with a determined grimace of his own.

Bruised and bloody, Evie crawled towards them and he watched as Bobby leaned down to help her into the kitchen. "I put a first aid kit under the sink."

"I'm not sure that's gonna be enough," Ellen told her hunching down to inspect the damage.

"It will do," she groaned resting her head against the wall.

"Here," Bobby said handing the first aid kit to Ellen. A look passed between them that Dean didn't quite understand before the older man stepped back and let Ellen go to work patching up his daughter. Bobby had a kid – Dean was still having trouble wrapping his mind around that one, but what was really nagging him was Meg's hinting at Evie knowing his father. That she had helped him. How did that all tie into the falling out between his father and Bobby? And what did it have to do with the Yellow-Eyed Demon?

Dean nudged Sam. His brother followed his hint and they crossed the compact room to where Bobby was standing, his eyes glued to floor. "How much of what Meg was hinting is true?" Dean asked flat out.

Bobby sighed.

---

Sam had never seen Bobby look so broken down. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Dean not to push him when Bobby started to speak. "Evie did help your father," he relayed. "It was years ago."

A hiss sounded from the other side of the room. Sam glanced over and saw Ellen picking pieces of glass out of Evie's shoulder. His brow furled as he put the pieces together. Evie had known that Meg was near by – sensed her somehow, which meant that maybe – the tracker E. S. The coordinates. Evie Singer, Bobby's daughter, was the tracker his father referred to in his journal. "She helped him track the Yellow-Eyed Demon didn't she?"

"What?" Dean uttered, flashing him a look of confusion.

"Yeah, she did."

"Did they find him?" he inquired.

Bobby finally glanced over to his daughter, before meeting his gaze. He nodded. "That's how John found out that he had plans for you and the other children."


	2. White Rabbit

"The Kid is good." Those were Caleb's exact words when he handed over the coordinates. Recognizing them as Bobby Singer's home base, he'd been surprised. He'd run into the man a few times over the years – he even helped him with a particularly nasty spirit in Oregon. John knew him to be a good hunter, not to mention reliable; but as far as he knew Bobby wasn't tracker. The fact that Caleb referred to a man with a sizeable chunk of years on him as "Kid" smacked of disrespect.

He hadn't questioned it at the time though. He'd dropped the boys at Pastor Jim's and if he left them there more then a week he knew Dean would come looking for him. His eldest son didn't like being left out of a job. His sixteenth birthday was a turning point for Dean. The boy considered himself a man now and John knew his son was more than capable of taking care of himself. He'd seen to that, but he was still his son. It was his responsibility to look out for and protect Dean, even if it raised the boy's hackles.

They'd fought over it of course, voices loud and harsh, while Sam stood back. At twelve he shot up like an oak, and would no doubt end up taller than his brother, hell maybe even him. He could still feel the weight of youngest's watchful eyes. It pained John to know that his son didn't know any other life – he didn't remember Mary's touch or voice, or the quiet happy time they all lived as a family.

Maybe that was best. Missing Mary was hard. Harder still knowing what normal was, thinking you knew what safety felt like. Giving that up as a man had been difficult. Dean had done it at four and John was certain he handled it better.

His boys were use to the night. To defending themselves. To being left. It wasn't ideal, it sure as hell wasn't how he pictured their lives when they'd been born, but the night that bastard demon took his wife changed everything. He'd find and kill it, but searching for it with Dean and Sam in tow was out of the question. If he could prevent it, that demon would never get close to either of his children again. That was a promise he made to himself; one he intended to keep no matter the cost. So the boys were tucked away, a might unhappily so, at Pastor Jim's while he had made the trek to Singer's place.

It wasn't until he got there that he understood Caleb's words. _Kid_. She was a kid all right, younger then Dean but older then Sammy. She was toned from hunting. It wasn't her age or even her sex that rubbed John the wrong way. It was wariness and knowledge in her dark eyes. Even when he looked at himself in the mirror he didn't see that kind weariness.

Then there was the way Bobby spoke about her – she was a tool. Not a child, not even a person, but a tool to be utilized. It angered him so much that his fists clenched and he lost Bobby's voice in a haze of red.

It was the cool feel of her hand on his that had the mad receding. The hand wasn't soft, considering the line of work they were both in that shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Calluses and a girl's hand didn't go together in John's mind. Soft skin and gentle touch, that was the association he always had.

Looking up from where their skin connected he met her gaze. "Never tracked a demon before," she told him. "I think it can be done, but we'll have to start from the beginning."

All sorts of reservations were building up in him, but more then anything else, even his own conscience, he wanted to find the thing that killed Mary. So he told her where it all started.

"Lawrence. Kansas."

---

"Kid." That's what Bobby called her. "Come on, Kid." "Pipe down, Kid." "Got anything yet, Kid?" That's pretty much all the elder Singer said to his daughter for the past three days they'd been following the trail. Not that there was a visual trail to follow. She just seemed to know where to head. From Lawrence they headed to Michigan where they found news articles of a specious fire in the bedroom of a six-month-old little boy. From there they backtracked towards Oklahoma. He and Bobby were driving in shifts and in the middle of the night she woke up drenched in sweat and told him to turn around.

She curled into herself as he questioned the sudden change in direction. "Fresh scent so to speak," she answered, resting her head against the window.

She'd been right about Michigan and John was certain if they continued on into Oklahoma they'd fine more evidence of the demon. Still it wouldn't do him any good to track a decade plus old trail across the country and back. Not if he ever wanted to go face-to-face with Mary's killer.

The Buick slowed as he eased onto the side of the road and prepared to pull a u-turn. "Where to …" John stumbled over his question as he struggled not to call her 'Kid.'

"It's okay," she said, her voice low and fatigued, "everyone calls me Kid."

He figured out why during the long stretches of late night driving. Kid wasn't a fifteen-year-old girl with thoughts and feelings of her own. Kid was an asset, a tool. Better to see that, to use that than the pale slip of a girl in the rearview mirror. His stomach twisted at the thought. He hated what this life did to his sons, the effect it had on them, but he couldn't take it back. There wasn't a place to go back to; he'd been hunting too long.

Long enough to know that there was something _different_ about Bobby's daughter, along the lines of Missouri Moseley, if he wasn't mistaken. Not that he ever saw Missouri affected the way the girl seemed to be. Was it the way she used her ability? Her age? John had mulled it over but he had no way of knowing.

A hunter had to be hard, focused. Unrelenting. He had that in him, but he was also a father. When they first found out Mary was pregnant with Sam, she talked about having a little girl and loving the idea of their daughter wrapping him around her little finger. "Tea parties," she had laughed merrily. "You'll be having tea parties and loving every minute of it."

Neither of them had been disappointed when the doctor informed them they were having a boy, but even as he watched his wife's stomach grow he thought trying one more time for a little girl; who he pictured being the spiting image of Mary.

"Where to, Evie?" he asked again, using the name he'd seen painted across the door to her room before they left.

Her gaze met his in the mirror. Her eyes were wide and shimmered with something akin to tears. "I can't pinpoint it yet. East of here, though."

---

They'd driven through Illinois and into Indiana as his week deadline closed. Bobby hadn't questioned the change in direction; instead he took the wheel without comment, leaving him to rest. His respite was fitful, more so than it had been in years. Images of Mary, of his life before and what could have been mixed with what was – the jumble of images and clash of feelings had him sleeping in short pockets of time. Each time he awoke he felt more restless then he had before drifting off.

He was in the middle of reliving the night Mary died when Bobby shook him awake. "Pit stop," the gruff voice said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Where are we?" John asked getting out of the car.

"Nowhere, Ohio."

A chuckle escaped him, easing some of the tension he felt. It was an old joke hunters made, with all the back roads they traveled they were more often then not in some nearly forgotten little town that was just eking by. John stretched as he watched Bobby move towards the single restroom on the back corner of the building. He had a mind to stop in the store for something to drink, but with his first step her voice sounded.

"It's nearby." Every muscle in his body constricted at her words. Stone-faced he turned and was surprised to see her at driver's side door, her hand poised over the handle. "We go without him."

"Bobby's backup," he argued.

"I'll cover you," she said sliding into the car.

"No offense, Evie," he said, annoyed, as he ducked down so they could be face-to-face, "but I want someone with experience."

Her eyes flashed hot, but her voice was calm when she retorted. "I've been at this all my life, I can handle it."

"Bobby should come with us," he insisted.

"Either get in the car or it's not happening." He sputtered at her statement but she continued, "He might not need me, but I still need him."

Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes pleaded him with him. John had no doubt that Bobby would be pissed. Royally pissed. More so for being left out of the hunt than him putting Evie in danger, which was the only reason he found himself getting into the car without further protest. "I know I'm going to regret this," he growled as the engine purred to life.

---

She sneered at him. Everything soft about her features had gone hard as yellow overtook her dark eyes. John lifted the gun, but was unable to pull the trigger. He hesitated for a split second because the demonic eyes shown out from a familiar face.

"You're not going to shoot me, John," the thing within Evie said. The voice he'd come to know had a mocking tone. "This body takes a bullet and it will die once I leave it. Bothersome little Evelyn Singer will be dead all because she wanted to help you."

The harsh words and the reality of the danger he put her in made him flinch – except he couldn't. His body would not move. He tried to flex his hold on the gun but nothing happened. His muscles weren't complying. His entire body was stiff. Panic tore its way through him, as did anger, but the torrid emotions did nothing to cure his immobility.

He could hear the demon talking in Evie's voice, "Not that her Daddy will mind. He'll probably beat you senseless for the loss of such a useful tool, but otherwise he won't miss her. One less mouth to feed and no reminder of the beloved wife who died birthing her. Hell, you'd be doing him a favor in the end, so go ahead, John-Boy. Shoot me," it taunted.

"Shoot me, but know you won't be avenging your wife because things like me – we don't die. Not like your lot, all soft and fleshy," it said running a hand down his cheek. He tried recoil from the touch, but he still had no control over his body.

"Shoot me if you must, but it won't stop me from taking Sammy when I'm ready. He's _mine_, like all the other children I've selected. You all might have created them, but they'll do my bidding before all is said or done, no matter what you do. Shoot me, John," it continued to goad as his mind raced with thoughts of his youngest son, of protecting him. "Let out the rage; end this poor forgotten girl's misery. Save her from a life of feeling everything thing she tracks – their dark thoughts and innermost awful desires. Save her from the nightmares they cause. Save her from remembering what it's like to have me inside her – controlling her – showing her the true meaning of Hell."

It let those words hang heavy between them for a moment before stating, "You like saving people, John. Other than revenge and your boys, it's the only thing that keeps you going." Lips twisted in predatory smile. "Shoot me and save her. No one else will."

John felt the hand around his gun flex as control over his body returned. Yellow eyes sparkled in front of him, glinting with smug satisfaction. Seconds dragged by like hours for him as he held the gun but did not fire.

"I didn't think so," it said before a cloud of dark smoke was expelled from Evie. He watched as, gasping for breath, she fell to the ground and vomited.

---

"It's like he said?" John asked they made their way back towards car. Their arms were around each other, offering the other support when it was needed.

Dry, wrecked eyes met his own before being cast back down to the uneven ground. "For the most part … I don't mind."

It was a lie. He could hear it in her voice and sensed it as her body shuddered. This life was killing her little by little, and she'd let it, all in hopes that her father would wake up one day and see her as his daughter first. John was certain that she would be long dead before that would happen.

_Save her, no one else will_. Those words kept circling around his mind. Proof that demons didn't always lie. What a bitch that was to learn; to know that Sammy was in danger of becoming some kind of puppet. He'd damn himself before he let that happen. He would save his son, no matter the cost, he'd save Sammy. But first he'd save Evie because, without her, he'd be living in ignorance.


	3. Round and Round

"Wait," Dean ordered. Bobby could see the anger and resentment playing on his face. "You're saying that Dad knew about the Demon's plan for _years_? He knew and never told us?"

"I –" he tripped over his words. Had John known about the test the demon put Sam and the others through? About the cemetery and doorway to hell? Bobby didn't know how to answer him because he hadn't been there. He'd been left stranded at a dumpy little gas station. John and the boys had picked him up a few days later to take him home. Once there John had sent the boys out to play and informed him that Evie was gone. Gone and not coming back. Words had been said and punches thrown. It hadn't changed anything though. John left him with a warning, not to go looking, and he told him to go to Hell.

"Bobby?" Sam said his named, his eyes pleading.

"I just know that he met up with the demon. John said that it had plans, and that he intended to stop them. That's all."

"The hell it is," Dean snarled as he turned. His green eyes were blazing as he narrowed in on Ellen and Evie.

"Back off," Ellen hissed, rising from the floor. "She needs to rest."

"Not until we know truth," Dean said brushing pass her. Ellen tried to stop him, but Sam stepped in front of her. Blocking both of them. "We need to know," he said.

---

Emotions tore through him and Dean tried his best to rein them in as he reminded himself that the battered woman sitting in front of him wasn't to blame for his father's choices. It would be easier, so much easier, if he could take them out on her or anyone else. Anyone who wasn't the man he loved and trusted so blindly. Dean took a deep breath before hunching down to meet her gaze. "Did he know?" he ground out. "Did he know what would happen to Sam and the others?"

Her answer was a simple, "No." Dean looked for some kind of tell. Her gaze didn't falter, she didn't fidget. She sat there looking worn. It wasn't that simple, though. He recalled the change in his father. A renewed sense of determination that held a hint of desperation to it. That's when his father and Sam really started to butt heads.

"He knew something though, didn't he?" he questioned.

She sighed as she looked from him, up to Sam and back again. "He said _plans_. Nothing specific, just that when the time came the children would do his bidding."

Dean continued to study Evie, looking for any trace of lie. After a few minutes he was satisfied with her answer, but he was left with a burning hole. For years his father knew and struggled with that information on his own. It pissed him off and Dean didn't know what do about it. He'd like to take a swing at the old man, then hash it out over beers. Acceptance and forgiveness would be that simple, but as he stood and faced Sam he knew his brother would have needed more. He wasn't certain that their Dad could have given it, and he thought maybe it was better this way.

---

Another half-truth from their father. After all these years you think he'd come to expect it, but it still came as a shock to Sam. Obviously, his father had to have learned the truth at some point. Sam had even come to accept the fact that he kept the truth from them in order to protect them. The length of time he kept the secret shouldn't have bothered him. It shouldn't have changed anything, and yet, every conversation they had – every fight – was now somehow tainted.

"Sam," Dean said, trying to cup his shoulder, but he shifted away from his brother. He wasn't ready to deal with the consequences of what had transpired.

"I think it's safe to get you some place more comfortable," he said, addressing Evie.

"That would be nice," she answered. Sam held out his hand helped her to her feet. She winched at her first step and he hunched so he could put her arm around his shoulder and take some of her weight.

"Thanks," Evie said, her voiced pained.

Sam nodded and asked, "Where to?"

"Right at the top of the steps, second door," Bobby instructed from behind him. "I'll have Dean bring up some water and aspirin."

---

Sam helped her onto the bed and for a moment sinking into the softness hurt, but as she settled in, the pain eased. Her childhood room was still painted a bright yellow and Evie was grateful for the cheery color. She concentrated on it as she tried to separate herself from the tangle of emotions within the house.

"Your initials are in my Dad's journal," Sam said as he rested against the wall. "I wanted to come look for you."

Her brow furled. "Why?"

"Because I have an idiot for a brother," he sighed. "An over-protective idiot of a brother who sold his soul to bring me back from the dead."

"That's family business," Dean hissed as he entered the room carrying the promised aspirin and water. "And I'm not an idiot. I saved your ass. That's what I do," he stated as he crossed the room.

Dean finally looked as her, saying: "Here you go," as he handed her the water and pills. His green eyes which had been swimming with emotion in the kitchen were now hard. Just because he was masking his turbulent emotions didn't mean Evie couldn't feel them. In fact, the brothers were so in tune with each other, she could feel the silent war they were having with each other.

It was enough to make her already sore head ache more fervently. Downing the pills Evie considered the last few days. The sharp feeling of a door to Hell opening up and evil being unleashed on the world. The certainty that the demon that had once possessed her being destroyed. She'd come back to her father's home in search of answers. No way he wouldn't at least know about something that big. Now she knew he was smack dab in the middle of it all, along with John Winchester's boys.

John had spoken of them that night so long ago, when she left Bobby and the Hunter's life behind. He told her about them, his voice full of pride and love, as well as, determination. He would protect them. That night she learned what a father was supposed to be. In the years that followed she came to realize that's what John was trying to be for her – a father, putting the needs and well-being of his child before everything else. He had needed it just as much as she had, because as much he wanted to, he couldn't offer his boys the same freedom.

Evie had spent years avoiding the supernatural and now here she was, back in the thick of things. It was her choice, but she wasn't certain how involved she wanted to get. It was obvious that the Winchesters were in need of help. How could she refuse them that after what their father did for her?

---

"You tracked the Yellow-Eyed Demon," Sam stated matter-of-factly. He saw Dean tense. His brother glared at him, ordering him with a look to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't. Whether Dean liked it or not, he was going to be saved.

She closed her eyes her moment, resting her head on the pillow so her face was to the ceiling. Dean prowled the small room, while Sam stayed still awaiting her response.

"Say I do help you. Say I track this demon you're after and we find it – then what?" Evie asked, opening her eyes.

Kill it was the first thing that came to mind. Of course Dean used the Colt's last bullet to kill the Yellow-Eyed Demon. As far as Sam knew there wasn't another way to kill a demon, which left bargaining. Dean would probably beat him senseless if he even attempted that. The truth was, beyond promising to find a way to save his brother, Sam hadn't really thought out how he would accomplish it.

His silenced earned him an "I-told-you-so" smirk from Dean.

"No plan then," she muttered. "Great."

---

Sam flinched at her words. He couldn't blame his brother for wanting to save him, for needing to try. He understood that need all too well. It drove him to a desperate act, one that damned him. Dean found it easy to accept that fact because of the life he lived, and no matter what it took, he'd keep his brother from having the same fate.

"No point in tracking what we can't kill."

"Dean," Sam said, with heat in his voice. Little brother was going to fight him tooth and nail on this, it'd be a bitch, but he hadn't expect anything less.

"The deal's been made, Sammy. There is no turning back and there is no way I'm letting you barter for my life."

"That would my choice wouldn't?" he seethed, pushing off the wall. "It's not like you asked permission when you bargained for mine."

Sam was edging towards him, ready to fight. Dean saw his hands balling into fists. He did owe Sam a fee shot and who knew, it might help.

"That's kind of a moot point isn't?" Evie asked, drawing their attention back to her. "Like Dean said, the deal has been made and before you start protesting I know you're set on saving him, Sam." Her tone was no-nonsense and it reminded Dean of his third grade teacher – full of patience and steel. "When we – when your dad and I caught up with the demon he said they'd couldn't be killed, but he was lying. Well sort of … demons end. No Hell for them, no chance of escape. They go extinct. Whatever is owed them can't be collected."

Apprehensive and concerned about the hope flaring in Sam's eyes Dean asked, "How do you know?"

"It's hard to explain," Evie answered, and he scoffed. Of course it was, he thought. She might be a tracker, but an expert on demons clearly not. She frowned at him an asked, "You ever been possessed?"

"No, but I have," Sam answered.

"Did it let you see anything? What it was doing? Things that it had done before it possessed you?"

"Perfect, John Edwards with demons," Dean muttered under his breath as Sam explained that he'd been able to witness what Meg had done. He could hear the underlying guilt in his brother's voice. Sam had been there, all but performing the acts, and he couldn't stop it. It was one of many experiences he wished Sam could have been spared.

"He showed me Hell," she said in a dead tone, "amongst other things – a nice little highlight of his misdeeds, including ending one of his own."

"That's nice," Dean snapped, his voice sharp with annoyance, "but that doesn't help us." He could already see Sam's big brain going to work. If old Yellow-Eyes ended one of his own then there had to be other ways. He wanted knock some sense into his brother. He had accepted his fate and he needed Sam to damn well do the same. If his brother lived in hope for the next year it would only make things harder for him, after.

"So we figure out how to kill it, and once we do, we get Evie to track it down," Sam replied, clearly aggravated by his opposition.

"And the other things out there? The things that got released on our watch?" he challenged. "That's _our_ responsibility, Sam."

"I'm not letting you die, Dean." Sam stepped forward as he said that, they were standing toe-to-toe now.

"And I'm not spending the next year letting innocent people get hurt. We have a job to do."

A sharp whistle sounded and they turned together to glare at Evie. "This is private argument," Dean barked.

"Well this is MY room fellas, and you're forgetting option 'C.'"

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Sam make his bitch-face as he asked, "Which would be?"

"You two hunt, Bobby," she tripped over his name, "and I will research, and once we figure it out, we'll find your demon and cut it down."

Sam started to protest, so he smacked him on the back of his head to shut him up. He earned a death glare, but Dean didn't care because Sam stayed quiet. "Bobby has more assets when it comes to researching, Sam, you know that. Besides someone has to be out there hunting those things down. They're not going to play nice and you know it. You want to help … to save me, then do it this way, because I'm not going to sit around while you do your Geek Boy thing."

"You expect me to do nothing, then?" Sam asked clearly not happy with option 'C.'

"Not nothing, Sammy. I expect you to cover my ass so I don't show up to the party early, and since my deal included the pesky string about me not being allowed to help myself, you're going to be responsible for offing the bitch. That work for you?"

A smile crept slowly across his face. "Yeah," he said with a nod, "that works for me."

**_THE END_**


End file.
